


the ballad of love and hate

by moonshinedown



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Based on a song, Fluff, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, i literally did not even proofread this oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-27 15:36:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20048422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonshinedown/pseuds/moonshinedown
Summary: He hates him. Loathes him. Despises him. He wishes that he could bring himself to wrap his hands around his neck and strangle the life out of him. But then the fun would be gone, so he fights him, always within an inch of his life, and then leaves him. And craves him. Every second apart from him is pure agony.Based off of the song "The Ballad of Love and Hate" by The Avett Brothers.





	the ballad of love and hate

**Author's Note:**

> Just a warning, this fic switches a lot between POVs. I wanted it to resemble the song. Hope it doesn't sound too bad.

_ Dear Vanitas,_

_Just so you know, I don’t hate you. I never could hate you. You always say you’re pure darkness and rage and everything negative that the world can offer, but you’re a part of me, and I don’t really think that anyone can be pure darkness. There’s gotta be some sort of light inside of you. So maybe stop making everything about you doom and gloom and try to open up to somebody someday? Just a suggestion. I’m all ears, if you wanna talk._

_Love,_

_Ventus _

He realizes as he writes the last words that that might be a bit much. In fact, the whole letter seems like it’s a bit much, and if he isn’t careful with his words, Vanitas might just show up on his doorstep and kick his ass again. He sighs, balling the paper up and tossing it in the trash, then starts again.

_ Dear Vanitas,_

_Terra, Aqua, and I have been vacationing together. Well, I say it’s a vacation, but we’ve really just been traveling to different worlds doing recon and making sure the heartless situation is under control. Still, it’s been fun, and I’m kind of exhausted. We were gone for a whole lot longer than I thought we would be, which is nice. We got to spend time together, like we used to. I’m actually ready to go home though. I need the rest._

_I can imagine what you’re thinking now, that I had ten years of rest, why am I still tired. Ha. Ha. I can imagine that you’re probably tired of reading this too, and you’re thinking about just throwing it away and then coming to find me so you can fight me again. Will you hate me more than you already do if I tell you that I miss you? I haven’t told Aqua or Terra that because they might think I’m crazy. And maybe I am, but that’s how I feel, and it feels better now that I’ve said it. I miss you, and I hope one day that we can figure out how to be together. Not like…in a romantic way. Just together. Because I don’t think anyone is beyond saving._

_Anyway, we’ll be home soon. If you want, you can come find me. You shouldn’t have a problem with that. We’re connected, after all. I can tell you all about our trip. The weather was sunny and brisk like the spring almost every day, and the ocean was beautiful. I hope to see you soon._

_Love,_

_Ventus _

He thinks about scratching out the “love,” but then decides against it. If Vanitas wants to get angry about it, he can. But Ventus is almost sure that he really does love him.

* * *

Vanitas finds the letter easily enough. Ventus is good at tracking his movements. After all, they are connected, and it’s simultaneously the best and worst thing in the world. Best, because when Vanitas is ready to fight, he usually knows where to find Ventus. Worst, because it works the opposite too, and he often does not want to be found. Because on the few occasions when Ventus decides to come to him in person, he tries to save him, to bring him home, talking some nonsense about the light and how he can’t be too far gone, and that’s all it is. Nonsense. The letters, at least, he can deal with, but every time he sees one, it hurts him just a little bit, like a deep stab wound to the chest, and then it enrages him, because he wants – no, needs– to see Ventus, to fight him, to consume him, to become him. He can’t do that when the coward won’t even bother to show up.

The letter is left folded with his name scrawled in sloppy cursive writing and a smiley face drawn next to it. Right where he always leaves the letters, stuffed behind a loose rock in the stone wall in Radiant Garden. He picks it up, unfolding it and hissing underneath his breath as his eyes scan over the words, cursing Ventus and every little thing he stands for. He hates him. Loathes him. Despises him. He wishes that he could bring himself to wrap his hands around his neck and strangle the life out of him. But then the fun would be gone, so he fights him, always within an inch of his life, and then leaves him. And craves him. Every second apart from him is pure agony.

The letter is just as stupid as any of the other letters he sends, and he growls, cursing again, balling it up and pitching it into the street. He watches as the strong wind carries it away, and it disappears into a crowd, just like all of the rest of the trash on the path.

That’s what it is. Trash. As if he cared what Ventus was up to. As if anyone cared. He rolls his eyes, biting his tongue against the rage rising up in him, savoring the taste of blood that it brings. He debates writing him back. He shouldn’t. He never does. But he’s feeling particularly scathing today, so he leaves a note where Ventus will look.

_ Ventus,_

_Whatever. Why even stop and leave a note? You’re a fucking moron. I don’t even know how we’re equals in anything. Do you think I fucking care what you’ve been doing? Do you think I care about anything you have to say? Why don’t you come find me and we can battle it out again. This time, I’m putting an end to you. Or, if you wanna be a coward and hide behind Master Aqua and big, strong Terra for the rest of your miserable, meaningless life, then be my guest. I don’t give a shit. _

He doesn’t sign it. Ventus will know who wrote it. He hates Ventus, with every fiber of his being. He wants to watch the life and the light leave his eyes. He wants to be there for the very last breath he draws. He also wants to slither inside of him, to be part of him once more, because he knows as long as he is nothing but the shadow following Ven’s light, he will not ever be complete. He will continue feeling this burning, annoying itch, this fury, this fire that is all-consuming and out of control within him. They are supposed to be one. And Ven will not let him do it.

* * *

Ventus hums a sweet, soft tune underneath his breath as he stares out at the ocean one last time. He has never seen anything so crisp or so blue in his life. Destiny Islands truly does seem like a fantasy getaway, a place one can only find in storybooks. He is happy, really happy, for the time being. In fact, he is totally at peace with nearly everything in his life.

Except Vanitas. Even staring at the ocean, watching the push and pull of the waves against the sand as the sun sets below the horizon, he feels an ache in his heart. It’s dull at first, but gradually, it grows stronger, and he sighs and pulls his legs up close to his body, resting his chin on his knees. He wonders if Vanitas found the note he left for him. He wanted to stop and talk to him, to fight, if that’s what he wanted, but he did not think he could bring himself to do it. He hardly ever feels any sort of negative emotion, but today, he feels longing, for something that he knows he can’t really have. Because there’s no reasoning with Vanitas. It’s all about fighting, trying to conquer him, trying to become one again. Ventus wants to become one again too, but he thinks there’s a different way to do that. He knows that if Vanitas rejoins with him, that will be it. Vanitas will be part of him, but he would never see him again. They would never clash. He could never hear his voice again. And that just won’t do.

He is almost entirely sure that he loves him.

Aqua approaches from behind him, kicking up sand as she ruffles his hair and seats herself next to him on the beach. He looks up at her, smiles, then stares off into the distance again, thinking about the letter, if it was too much, if Vanitas would try to come to him, or if he should go looking for him instead. He thinks he might be going completely insane, because why should he want to see Vanitas so badly, when he has everything he could want and more right here? 

“Sad about leaving?” Aqua asks, and he nods a little, though that isn’t entirely it. He is ready to go home. But he isn’t ready for what comes after when they leave. 

“There’s something else,” she says. “What is it?” 

“Nothing,” he replies, and he knows she can see right through him. She knows when he’s down, when he’s lying, and he hates to lie to her, so he adds, “Just feel like there’s a part of me missing.” And there is. He cannot ever be complete without Vanitas. 

He doesn’t have to disappear. They can live in harmony. They can always be together. This doesn’t have to end in a fight or a death. They can be one. 

But convincing Vanitas to lay down his keyblade is a whole other story.

* * *

Vanitas is hurting. Every second of his existence is painful. Every second left without his light is ruthless. It’s unfair. He should be allowed to rip Ventus apart and crawl inside of him and taste the joy, the happiness, the peace that Ventus gets to experience every day. He’s never known goodness in his entire life. He sees it in Ventus. But he cannot touch it. It’s a foreign concept, something that is far outside of his reach, unattainable. 

He roams through Radiant Garden, not even sure what he’s doing here. He could be anywhere doing anything, wreaking havoc, leaving an Unversed mess for Ventus and his stupid friends to clean up, but he is here, walking through the late afternoon crowd and feeding off of all of their negative emotions. The anger that this teenage girl feels toward her best friend, the sadness that this little boy feels after dropping his ice cream, the guilt this man feels as he takes a detour home from work to see his lover before going home to a wife and kids. He drinks all of it up, thrives off of it, and feels powerful. Powerful enough to plunge this world right back into darkness where it belongs. Powerful enough to fight Ventus, to win once and for all. 

“Young man, are you lost?” An old woman, kindness in her eyes and in her voice. He scowls at her. Too much light. There is too much light here. He doesn’t belong here. 

Vanitas does not crave anything. Nothing in the world gives him pleasure. He eats because he has to, though he tastes nothing. He fights because he has to, and there is no rhyme or reason to it. Yet he craves Ventus, and the thought of needing something, needing _ him _, makes him so unbelievably furious that he screams, right in the middle of the street. And he doesn’t care. Why should he? He soaks in people’s fear, their worry. It becomes a part of him. 

He thinks he might go find Ventus, and then decides against it. He will let Ventus come to him. The longer he ignores Ventus, the angrier he gets, and the harder he fights. That’s exactly the way he likes him.

* * *

When they arrive at the Land of Departure again, Ventus is ready for bed. He carries his bag inside, dragging his feet, and barely makes it to his bed before he collapses. Terra and Aqua say goodnight, and they are gone, and he is left in the darkness of his room with nothing but the stars in the sky to keep him company. 

He knows Terra and Aqua hate Vanitas. There is no question about it. Why would they not? But he can’t find it in him to hate anyone, not even his own darkness. He sees it all as it is, a spectrum. Life is not just black and white, good and evil, darkness and light. Because then if what they said was true about Vanitas, that he was nothing but darkness and negativity, then that would mean that Ventus was nothing but light, and he wasn’t quite sure he felt that way. Certainly he felt like he carried less darkness in his heart than an average person, but that was because his darkness had its own form, traversing the worlds on its own and trying to destroy him. 

“You’re too sweet, Ven,” Aqua would always say to him, right before kissing him on the forehead or giving him a half-hug. Or, “You’re so good, Ven.” 

He tries to be. That’s why he wants to give Vanitas another chance. Wants to give him every single chance in the world. He knows that Vanitas feels alone, drifting along without any purpose except to follow Ven, and he doesn’t want him to be like that. He wants to give him reason. He wants to help him grow, to prosper. He thinks he can do it. He thinks he can help Vanitas learn about trust and friendship and affection. 

_ We don’t have to be apart. Not ever again. We can be together… _

He knows for sure that he loves him now. How could he not? He is a part of him, and he could not live without him. 

He’s going to find him. He’s going to bring him home. Vanitas can have him, every bit of him, and even better, he can have Vanitas.

* * *

Vanitas has never cared for the daytime. It’s the nighttime that usually brings out the monsters, and he is one of them. He blends right in. Radiant Garden is quiet, for the most part. He sits on the side of the fountain, drinking the last of a bottle of vodka that he stole. He’s never been drunk a day in his short, miserable life, but he is drunk now, and it does not make him dizzy or stupid or giggly or happy, like it’s supposed to. Because why, even in an inebriated state, should he ever be allowed to feel anything good? It enriches his anger, fuels him, and all he can think about is Ventus. 

_ Ventus, Ventus, Ventus. _ He can hear him now, his stupid, soft voice that’s meant to soothe and relax, but only sets a fire deep in the pit of Vanitas’s stomach. If he were here right this second, sitting next to Vanitas at the fountain, he would be looking up at the stars. And he would be swinging his legs that didn’t quite touch the ground, and his stupid blue eyes would be wide and filled with wonder, and he would feel appreciation and love for a world and a sky and a garden and the stars. 

“The stars are beautiful tonight,” he would say, and Vanitas would hate him for it, because how can he find anything beautiful? He sees things as they are. He doesn’t understand beauty. He doesn’t understand looking up at the sky and feeling anything other than complete and utter boredom. 

The only time he thinks he’s ever almost understood what beauty was, was when he and Ventus had clashed for the first time, and Ventus lay broken and bruised below him and still trying to be positive, still trying to reach out to him, to touch him, to try to dive inside of him and scrape around until he could find the tiniest scrap of light. That, he thinks, is what beautiful looks like. 

Maybe.

* * *

Ventus’s heart takes him exactly where he needs to be. He can feel the dark tendrils of Vanitas’s pitch black soul reaching out to him, and he thinks that there might be something heavy weighing down on him, something terrible that even pure darkness cannot handle. 

Vanitas is in Radiant Garden, as he usually is. It’s an easily accessible world, and the people here, for some reason, do not question Vanitas’s presence. Perhaps it’s because they understand darkness better than most, after losing their world to it. Perhaps they’ve all simply suffered too much to even care. Either way, Ventus can sense him, and he wants to find him. 

Is he insane? For loving someone who has never felt love before? Someone who might not ever be able to experience love? Aqua would judge him, surely, and Terra would be shocked, but they would learn to understand. Good, sweet Ven, being far too merciful to the big, tough bad guy. They would find it endearing. Admirable, even. Because Ven could do no wrong. 

Vanitas was his wrongdoing, his sins, and oh, Terra and Aqua would never be able to forgive him for how badly he wants to dip into the darkness, just so that he can be close to Vanitas, to touch him, to feel him, to understand him. 

He doesn’t just love him, no. He is in love with him. There is no other way. It’s been like this since the beginning. They cannot exist without each other. He needs his shadow, and his shadow needs his light. He knows, no matter how hard he tries, he cannot fully be alive without Vanitas. 

Is he good? Is he sweet, innocent, perfect, angelic Ventus, standing here in Radiant Garden and thinking of ways that he can make their coexistence work? Is he good for craving the bitterness and the hatred and the fear and the guilt and the rage and the longing that comes along with loving Vanitas? 

“Young man, are you lost?” An old woman speaking to him, her hand reaching out for him, kindness filling her eyes and dripping from her lips. He smiles at her and takes her hand, because it seems she’s struggling to even walk. 

“I’m looking for someone,” he says. “My –” He doesn’t know how to describe his relationship with Vanitas. If he says “my shadow,” it sounds like it’s all a game. He certainly doesn’t consider him a brother because that would be wrong, even more wrong than this already was, and he’s not a friend. “He’s a companion, I guess. He’s about my height, dark hair, yellow eyes –” 

“He roams around here all the time,” she tells him. “Always like he’s looking for something. He’s a mean one. What’s a nice boy like you doing looking for someone like that?” 

“He’s not mean,” Ventus says, though he knows that’s a lie because Vanitas _ is _ mean, and he’s hateful, and he’s violent, and maybe everyone would be better off if Vanitas was dead. But not Ventus. He would be even more lost and confused than he already was. “He’s alone, and he doesn’t know any other way to exist. But I can reach him. I know I can.” 

Ventus doesn’t know the effect he has on people. He thinks this is a casual interaction, just like any other he might experience on the streets of any old world, but this kind old woman feels warmth stirring in her heart just by being near him, and as he helps her down the street to her doorstep and they say their goodbyes, she wonders to herself if she might ever see him again. He sheds light everywhere he goes, enriching lives, making everyone’s tired, old, aching souls feel just a little bit better just by being in his presence. 

He’s going to shed some light on Vanitas. He just has to find him first. He imagines that he’s lurking in the shadows somewhere, and once Ventus gets close enough, he’ll jump out and throw some sort of sarcastic comment out at him before trying to beat him senseless. That’s how it always goes.

Not this time. This time, he’s going to make sure Vanitas knows he has options. They can be together. He’s going to take his hand and he’s never, ever going to let go, no matter how much Vanitas struggles against him. Vanitas’s way works; they fight and they fight and they fight, and it’s the closest they will ever be together. But Ventus is confident that his way will work too. 

His heart rate picks up, drumming out a panicked beat as he walks down the street. Patience, patience, patience. The word flies through his mind, syncing up to the sound of his heart. All it will take is patience and time. He has infinite amounts of both, and he will give it all to Vanitas. 

He knows he’s stupid. Crazy, even. But maybe love makes you crazy.

* * *

Vanitas is not really sure how he’s still alive. He questioned it after the Keyblade Graveyard, when he was defeated, and he woke up at Destiny Islands right beside the ocean. Alone, as usual. Logically speaking, he probably should have been dead, but he figured that the reason he wasn’t was because Ventus was still alive, and as long as Ventus lived, Vanitas had to exist too. Which was frustrating, to know that his existence was only tied to one person. 

If the beating in the Keyblade Graveyard wasn’t enough, then last night should have been the ending of it all. He’d drank until he blacked out, until it brought every single negative thought he’d ever had screaming to the surface and he’d gone downright feral, to the point where he would bring harm to anyone who crossed his path and even himself. He awoke in pain in one of the back alleys of the downtown shopping area, and it was a new kind of pain, one that he was not familiar with, accompanied by a headache and a twist in his gut that made him promptly empty what little contents he had in his stomach. When had he ever had a second of time when he wasn’t experiencing some sort of pain? 

But this pain was…raw. And itchy. And it settled deep within his bones and tore at him from all angles. He wonders if Ventus has bothered to read the letter he left him. He can sense Ventus’s presence in Radiant Garden, but it seems unusually…powerful. Surely he hasn’t seen it. If he had, he would have either cried and gone home or gotten so upset that he would have stopped at nothing in his search for Vanitas. 

Shit. He wishes that Ventus would get angry. He likes it when he’s angry. 

Not that he can really like anything. But if he could, that would be it. 

He looks at the clock that is set in the window of one of the shops he passes by. 2:55. He’s been in this town long enough now to know that the clock is five minutes behind, and no one is bothered to fucking fix it. He thinks of summoning his keyblade and smashing the window because he is in so much pain and he can’t stop thinking and _ damn it where is Ventus? _

He has to fight back a scream as he storms through the street, pushing through the crowd with no regard to the shouts and cries of protest that ring up around him. He can feel Ventus, and while he’s carrying the light that Vanitas so desperately wants to swallow up, there’s something troubling him. His own little touch of darkness. He can feel it. Ventus is hurting. He is not angry. He’s not looking for a fight.

He’s sad.

This should be easy.

The court square where the fountain is situated is unusually empty today. There is a mother and a child sitting on a bench sharing ice cream and a couple of high school kids playing a game of frisbee, but none of them pay any mind to him as he approaches.

At the edge of the fountain, Ventus is seated by himself, feet not quite reaching the ground as he swings them idly and gazes up at the sky, a deep frown etched onto his face. He is unsuspecting and vulnerable, which makes this all worthwhile, and Vanitas finds himself smiling as well, though he feels no joy behind it. He summons his keyblade and stalks over to him silently, like a predator in the night, mind reeling. Finally, finally the mother looks up and sees him, and her jaw drops as she grabs her child and runs. The high schoolers stop, staring, and then take off as well, and it makes his skin crawl with something he might equate to pleasure, but that isn’t quite it. It’s just good to know that he still has that power, that he can instill fear into the hearts of all around him.

_ The monster that lives underneath the bed, that lurks in the shadows… _

Ventus surely knows he’s here by now, but he doesn’t move to defend himself, which is infuriating. He looks up at the sun, blue eyes shining with light and kindness and all of the things that Vanitas has never had the chance to feel. But he’s sad, too.

Vanitas gets close to him, raising his keyblade above his head, ready to strike, and finally Ventus looks up at him. And he smiles. The happiness reaches his eyes. He sighs, his shoulders relaxing, and the sadness leaves his heart. He is relieved.

“I was worried about you,” he says. “I haven’t seen you in…months. I was hoping for some sort of sign. That you were okay. I could feel you…but it was messy. Chaos. You seemed worse off than before. Like…out of your mind.”

Vanitas lowers his weapon, his lip curling back into a snarl. He’s mostly confused, but there is a storm rolling in inside of him, lightning striking through his bones, gray clouds forming in his mind, cold rain chilling his insides and churning his stomach like the crashing waves of a tumultuous sea. He is angry. Bitter. Furious. Enraged. He hardly even knows what to say to Ventus because _ he’s such a damn nuisance he should not be allowed to say shit like that. _

“You’re not supposed to care about me,” he hisses. “You’re supposed to want me dead. You’re supposed to fight me and get rid of me and I’m supposed to become you. I’m supposed to live inside of you and eat up all of the light I’ve been denied –”

“I missed you,” Ventus says, and he has the nerve to reach out and touch Vanitas’s cheek, and the storm grows stronger. There is fire in his veins now, and he reaches out, grabbing Ventus’s wrist and twisting it at an awkward angle. Not quite hard enough to break it, but Ventus lets out a little cry of pain, and it sounds so delicious and sweet to Vanitas’s ears. There is no better sound in the world.

It only takes him a moment to recover. He settles back, pulling against Vanitas’s grip, but there is no fight behind it. “I think you missed me too.”

“Missed you?” Vanitas scoffs, because why the hell would he ever miss anyone? Especially this…this piece of shit that waves his light all over the place and acts like he’s such a fucking saint, as if he’s on some sort of moral high ground, far above everyone else in the world. “You’re delusional, Venty. You should get that checked out.”

“Vanitas…” He is pleading now, his eyes wide. “I know what you want. You don’t have to live like this anymore. You have a choice.”

He growls, his grip tightening even more on Ventus, and he’s so angry, so fucking tired of Ventus thinking he knows everything, as if he understands. He could never understand. He swings him over the edge of the fountain, as easily as if he was a doll, and he splashes into the water and cries out against the cold, and Vanitas laughs as he climbs on top of him, thighs closing painfully tight against his chest.

He realizes quite suddenly that he still doesn’t quite understand beauty and could probably never fully grasp it, but this is as close to it as he’s been now. And Ventus is not bruised or broken or bleeding or crying or begging for his life. He is just lying there, water soaking through his clothes and peering up at Vanitas through dark eyelashes, without a single hint of fear in his blue eyes. There is only sadness…and something else that Vanitas doesn’t quite understand. Nothing negative. It’s something he’s never experienced before. And it makes him feel even worse.

“You think I have a choice?” he says, teeth bared. He closes his hand around Ventus’s throat, hears him gag, relishes in the sound. “This is who I am. This is who I’ve been since the day we split. Either we rejoin, or you kill me. Or I kill you. There isn’t another choice. You decide.”

He feels Ventus go slack against him. He is done fighting. It startles him a little, and out of sheer curiosity, he lets go, leaning over Ventus and studying his face carefully. Trying to understand. They are the same, but opposites, and he cannot figure out what is going through Ventus’s head and why he won’t just hit him. He wants him to. He wants to bleed. He thrives on the violence.

And suddenly, without any warning, Ventus raises up, closing the gap between the two of them as he presses his lips against Vanitas’s for the briefest second, then pulls away. Watching. Waiting.

Vanitas is struck with more confusion. So much confusion that he almost forgets about the fight he so desperately wanted and thinks about running. He stares, wide-eyed, crawling backward away from Ventus, trying to put distance between them. They have fought plenty of times, and Vanitas has always wondered if he’s on the brink of death. Sometimes it scares him. But no matter how many times he’s almost touched death, nothing terrifies him more than this.

A kiss?

The storm that lives inside of him subsides for just a moment, giving him reprieve from all of the fear and the anxiety and the pain and the grief and the anger that is constantly overpowering him. He feels…warm. As if he is standing in the light of the sun. A tingle lingers on his lips, races down his spine, and he is utterly horrified.

“I love you,” Ventus says, pushing wet hair out of his face as he closes the distance between them again, cupping Vanitas’s face gently, so so gently, in his hands, and he grins like he is thrilled about this revelation.

But Vanitas scoffs. Love. That’s the thing about the fucking guardians of light. They let stupid things like love and friendship dictate their every move instead of just taking things for themselves. It’s stupid. But his body still feels warm, and he has never felt more relaxed in his life. It doesn’t make sense. This sensation is…foreign. Strong. Pleasure? Delight? Surely not. He doesn’t have the capacity to understand those things.

“Tsk, tsk,” he says. “Now what would Master Aqua say if she found out her little pet was going around falling in love with a bad guy?”

“She’ll have to understand,” Ventus says, as if every single insult and sneer that Vanitas had just thrown at him meant nothing. “I don’t know how it happened, but…I can’t live without you. You know that. And I don’t know if this will ever work, but I’m willing to try it if you are. We can exist together. And you can have me…always. I won’t leave you.”

“As if I care,” Vanitas hisses. “You can leave if you want. I don’t give a shit.” He thinks, though, that if Ventus got up and left right this second, it might shatter something inside of him. Not his heart, obviously. But something.

Ventus smiles again, like Vanitas is sitting there whispering sweet nothings to him rather than insulting him. It doesn’t make any damn sense, how Ventus can be this happy and how he can shrug everything off and not feel every little blow like it’s tearing through his skin. It must be nice, feeling that way.

“You wouldn’t know what to do if I left,” Ventus says.

“I survived ten years without you while you were having a nice, long beauty sleep. Princess.”

“It won’t happen again. You don’t have to hurt anymore.”

He’s not even hurting! No more so than he normally does. Ventus is ridiculous. He hates him so fucking much he can barely stand it. But then Ventus closes the gap between them again, pressing another kiss to Vanitas’s mouth, and he lingers there for a moment, as if Vanitas might kiss him back. He doesn’t move. He is frozen. His fists clench, and he bites down hard on his tongue until he tastes blood, and Ventus’s hands curl around his neck and slide easily through his hair. He feels the same tingle, the warmth, swirling all around him wherever Ventus touches him. And he knows now, that like this, he can touch the light. He can taste it. And it’s good. Perfect. The darkness is melting away slowly, and it hurts, but he thinks – hopes, really, if a heartless creature of darkness can even hope – that it will eventually all go away, and he could be with Ventus again.

He’s with Ventus now.

Slowly, he opens his mouth, and he lets Ventus slip his tongue inside, grazing over his teeth, and he kisses him back. He does not understand love. He isn’t sure he ever will. But this? This is…something. And it feels like waking up.

“I’m yours,” Ventus says, smiling as Vanitas pulls away, curling against him and reveling in the warmth of him. The light. “And you’re mine. Forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I wrote this. I heard the song, the idea came to me, I started writing, and I couldn't stop. But whatever. Anyway, I hope this was okay. (: Give the song a listen, if you want. It's sweet.


End file.
